


Ginny Weasley and The Year Of Battles

by jennibrolawrence



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Non-Graphic Violence, also they're kind of broken up so that would be awkward, anyway this fic is about the year that ginny is at hogwarts, could be alternatively titled: Ginny and The Year of Suck, dont hate me but people are gonna get hurt man, everything sucks e v e r y t h i n g, i mean really though it's not like hinny has time for Sexual Actions, lol look erin writes T-rated fanfiction for once, they are fighting a war, well it could be kind of graphic depending on your tastes, wow!! im writing for hp and not thg!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 23:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennibrolawrence/pseuds/jennibrolawrence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny's not looking forward to her sixth year. Her boyfriend just broke up with her, there's a war coming, her body is changing, and sixteen is just a weird year in general. Little does she know that the coming school year is going to challenge her, change her, and ultimately turn out to be one of her best years despite all the darkness around her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year of suck begins for Ginny, with a breakup. And it all goes downhill from here....

**Okay, so I started writing this back in 2012. Yeesh. But I finally decided to finish this, and I’ve got nothing but time on my hands until my job starts in the fall, so hope you enjoy this. I’m going mainly off of what we know from canon, and bringing in a couple ideas from other fics I’ve read, which I will include as references. It’s been really fun to rediscover my love for the series and especially my love for Ginevra Molly Weasley!**

 

"Ginny, listen..."

I knew what was coming. 

Staring into those beautiful green eyes of the man I loved-yes, loved-I knew he was going to tell me what I didn't want to hear. But that man, the one across from me, the one with the ragged scar on his forehead and jet-black hair, had to do this for our own good. For the good of our whole world. I squared my shoulders. "We can't be involved anymore. We can't be together. We have to stop seeing each other."

Tears burned the corners of my eyes but I would not let them fall. Inside, this was tearing Harry up just as much as it was tearing me up. The past few weeks, we had spent nearly every waking moment together and I had noticed that there was something not being said. A sense of urgency, I guess, was hanging over every action Harry made. It felt like every kiss was our last, every hug was a treasure to be stored up and hidden away for the darkest moments to come.

So, I listened to what Harry told me. I knew that this was the end-at least, for the foreseeable future, or until Voldemort's arse got kicked-but I still loved Harry. I still love him, even though he isn't here with me right now. He told me that Voldemort used people close to his enemies to get through to them, and he couldn't risk anything happening to me. I didn't even cry when I told him that I had seen this coming.

After the funeral, when we got on the Hogwarts train to go home, I managed to keep the tears at bay. There was still Fleur and Bill's wedding. 

Harry would surely come to that, wouldn't he?

He had to...and I knew Ron was going to follow Harry no matter what, even to the point of death. Ron might be an arsehole sometimes, and  _ terribly _ slow to see love staring him in the face (exhibit A: Hermione), but he was loyal and devoted. In that sense Ron was, and is, still my favorite brother. A true Gryffindor, I suppose you could say.

When we arrived home, I went straight to my room and finally let loose of the tears that had been stored up for weeks. I'd broken up before, with Michael, with Dean, with other guys, and I'd cried those times, the most with Dean, but I had never felt like this. A horrible loneliness surrounded me. Even when I hadn't been in Harry's presence, I still felt safe, protected, loved...because I had someone. That someone loved me and I loved him too...and that is where I find myself now.

  
It’s been weeks, and I still spend hours staring at the ceiling replaying those golden moments in my mind over and over. I miss Harry so much it feels like a hole in my heart. Mum manages to keep me busy with wedding preparations, but I know she sees my broken heart.

I also know Harry won’t be at school in the fall. He never explicitly told me he was quitting school, but I figure you can’t really fight Voldemort and be a full-time student. The war's coming soon, and Harry won't be there at Hogwarts with me, and that's what scares me the most.

 


	2. That's Just Life, Ginny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny is a petulant teenager, the ghoul is smelly, and Harry is sad.

**So, in this installment of Ginny's life, we open with her being a typical teenager, and then the real shit starts going down.**

 

I am terribly bored, it's terribly hot, and I am in a terrible mood. I've spent the past hour doodling my name in my journal: Ginny Weasley. Ginny Potter. Ginny Weasley Potter.

That last doodle brings up bad memories from a month ago and my foul mood spirals even further down. I'm nearly sixteen...I shouldn't still be a sulking teenager. On top of things, Mum and I aren't getting along,  _ again _ . There's no fighting, but it's certainly frosty and I can sense the tension in the room when she and I are together.

The first half of summer was spent moping in my room, staring at the ceiling and writing angrily in my journal.  I cried a fair amount, but then decided that Harry was going to have it far harder in his quest to destroy Voldemort. So in mid-July I bucked up and pulled my head out of my arse, only to find that no one _really_ noticed how I'd been.

"Ginny, dear, can you come down and help with supper?"

Grr. I set down my journal, quill, and tromp loudly down the stairs to the sizzling kitchen where Mum's got dinner going on the stove.

Pulling the china cabinet doors open, I grab the necessary cutlery and plates and put them on the table. I hate being underage. I wish I could use my wand and go, _"Wingardium Leviosa_ " and bang, plates on table. No sweat, no labor, and it gets done more quickly. How do Muggles do this?!

I don't want to break the law, though. So I finish folding napkins...by hand...and Mum nods her approval. "Thanks, Ginny, you're a dear," she says.

I nod, and roll my eyes when I turn around. 

Fred and George are spending more than a fair amount of time at the joke shop, Dad's working overtime at the Ministry, Bill and Charlie are out of the house, and Ron is spending a suspicious amount of time upstairs. I suspect it's to do with his mission for Harry, so I haven't said a word about it to Mum. Besides, the attic is terribly hot and I try not to go up there because of the ghoul.

This all, of course, leaves me to be her slave, and also to be the only one to get yelled at. Bugger. I can't wait for the wedding. At the same time though, I dread having to get ready for the wedding...ugh. If I have to wear pink I’ll die. 

Dinner that night is a subdued affair, since the twins are working late again, and Ron isn't being talkative tonight. I notice he keeps checking his watch. So, when Dad speaks suddenly, we are all startled. I look up.

"We're moving Harry in a week."

Ron very unsubtly gives me a pointed look, and says, "You mean before his birthday?" I glare at him.

"Yes. The Order has been talking about it and, by the way, none of this news leaves the room. Wonderful trout, Molly."

"Thanks, dearie. Ginny, will you help me clean up?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Ron, there's an Order meeting that we need you to attend tomorrow with Dad and me," Mum continues.

What the hell? Oh, so now  **_he_ ** gets to go to meetings?

Ron pumps his fist in victory and bounds upstairs, presumably, to the attic. I seethe.

But I decide not to argue, and go up to my room and stare at the wall for the better part of an hour. I wish I could write to Harry, but then that might imply that I want us to get back together. I don’t want him to regret the breakup more than he already does, and I absolutely cannot distract him from the Voldemort Mission.

I daydream about what I would write. Would I tell him about the napkin folding? The silverware polishing?...bugger it, there's nothing to write about. I doubt Harry wants to hear about my angst, nor about how boring my days are. Boring is preferable to danger, in Harry's eyes.

That does it. I'm going upstairs and finding out what Ron's doing.

* * *

 

Walking gingerly up the rickety stairs to the attic, I knock on the door.

All noise stops. "Ron?"

"What?"

"It's Ginny. Can I come in?"

"Uh...um...oh, hell. Why not?"

I come in. Our friendly ghoul is seated on an old armchair, and looks up when I come in. He grins and waves awkwardly.

"What the hell are you doing?" I whisper. The ghoul is wearing a pair of Ron's old pajamas...and he's got...red hair. It’s a truly horrifying sight to behold.

Ron's ears turn red, and that guilty Weasley look shows up on his face. Tapping my foot, I stare him down. "Tell me. Right now. What are you doing? Is this for the mission?"

"Erm, well, er..."

I grab my brother's collar. "You will tell me right now, or I _will_ hex your Chudley Cannons bedspread purple."  

"You wouldn't!"

"Oh, yes, I would." I have the exact spell in my mind.

"Fine..." he huffs and motions me over to the old bed I used when I was a girl.

"This ghoul is supposed to be me. When Fred and George come home, they've been comin’ up here and doing spell work on the ghoul to make it look more like me. Thing is, Ginny, I'm not going back to Hogwarts this year."

Unsurprised by the last part-I'd figured as much-I say, "Wait, how is it supposed to be you? How can no one go in your room?"

"Well, we're giving him a deadly case of spattergroit."

Oh, God, no. Spattergroit? That's absolutely mental, no one gets spattergroit anymore unless you live in a cave and don’t bathe for three years.

"S-spattergroit? Oh, and everyone's going to believe that?" I scoff. 

"Dad's in on it, y'know, and so are Fred and George..."

"I'm in on it now. Don't worry, I'll keep it a secret."

 

What I choose not to ask Ron, however, is what he, Harry, and Hermione are doing to destroy Voldemort. How long will it take? Months? Years? I hope it takes less than a couple of years.  

The next week passes in relative uneventfulness, except for an increasingly foul odor emanating from the attic door. It's got to be the ghoul, but Mum somehow hasn't noticed so I keep my mouth shut.

On the day that the Order goes and fetches Harry, I am terribly restless. I keep pacing and pacing until I'm positive I've worn a hole in my carpet, but I never really liked that carpet anyway. It’s got an ugly paisley pattern on it.

Finally, night falls and my father and Ron and all my brothers (except Percy) go off to do their mission. Mad-Eye's got this bonkers idea where they all take Polyjuice, turn into Harry, and supposedly that will throw old Voldypants off the trail. Naturally, it being Harry, it's got to be more complicated than that. Hence my pacing.

Mum and I eat dinner together in silence. We clean up, and sit near the window, watching the Portkeys outside apprehensively.

The clock on the wall suddenly changes to "in mortal peril" and Mum's face pales. 

Oh, God! No...no, no, it's George's face! 

Bill's changes to "in mortal peril" as well, and mine and Mum's are the only ones that stay in their usual spot.

* * *

 

I hear a slam, splash, and someone swearing-must be Hagrid. I run out the door and I see Harry, or at least, one of the Harrys, and my mum cries out, "Harry? You _are_ the real Harry? What happened? Where are the others?"

"What d'you mean? Isn't anyone else back?" Harry pants. 

I don't want to answer him, nor does Mum. 

Harry takes a deep breath-I try not to notice his broad chest rising and falling-and continues, "The Death Eaters were waiting for us, we were surrounded the moment we took off-they knew it was tonight, I don't know what happened to anyone else, four of them chased us, it was all we could do to get away, and then Voldemort caught up with us-" Harry has that old self-justifying note in his voice again, but I don't think badly of him. He was just doing what he had to do...

Mum grabs Harry and pulls him into a bone-crushing hug and I hear a slight squeak, possibly the air whooshing out of his lungs. 

Mum goes off to get Hagrid some brandy for "medicinal purposes", and Harry and I are left standing next to each other a little awkwardly. I try not to meet his eyes for too long. 

He turns to me, and I answer the next question without him even saying anything. "Ron and Tonks should have been back first, but they missed their portkey, it came back without them..." I point at a rusty oil can. "And that one," I point at one of Fred's old trainers, "should have been Dad's and Fred's, they were supposed to be second, and you and Hagrid were third-and if they made it, George and Lupin ought to be back in about a minute." He nods, grateful for the update, I hope, and I suddenly want to hug him. Then I see a flash of light, blueish in colour, and it's Lupin, with George on his shoulder.

Oh, God, no! George is bleeding terribly and he's back to his normal face.

Harry runs forward, seizes George's legs, and helps Lupin carry him inside to our sitting room and lays him on the sofa. I see the blood covering George-and cover my mouth. He hasn't got one of his ears! 

Lupin grabs Harry and after a struggle, confirms that he is indeed the real Harry and not an imposter.

Another scuffling sounds from outside, and I know that's got to be another Portkey. It's Hermione and Kingsley.

"Did I hear someone else in the yard?" I ask Harry, even though I already know who it is.

"Hermione and Kingsley," he answers. I try not to look in the sparkling emeralds meeting mine, and then immediately feel stupid for comparing his eyes to emeralds.

"Thank goodness," I whisper. I had better not be blushing.

They come in, and Hermione immediately flings herself into Harry's arms and I grit my teeth. _They're just friends, they're just friends_ , I repeat to myself. I shouldn't be jealous, we're not dating anyway. Looking back from the window, I turn to George who is whimpering. I take his hand and stroke it. Mum's stopped the bleeding now, and there is a clean, dark hole where his ear used to be. If it weren't so graphic, I'd be fascinated 

Harry looks like he wants to hug me, and I would love to hug him...but then there is a resounding BANG from the kitchen. It's my father and Kingsley rowing. "I'll prove who I am, Kingsley, after I've seen my son, now back off if you know what's good for you!"

I bite my lip. 

Normally, my father would never mouth off to someone like Kingsley.

Dad pushes his way into the kitchen and kneels down at George's side. His lips move, silently. Fred dashes into the sitting room. For the first time in my life, he's quiet.

If this is an indication of the year to come, I hope I get through it.

 


	3. The Good Times Never Last Long Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's birthday, the wedding, and a terrifying event.

******The infamous wedding preparations take up much of this chapter, as well as Ginny's curiosity. I took a couple liberties with her eavesdropping, but let's be real-Ginny would have totally stolen an Extendable Ear if she could.**

 On top of George's ear and the mayhem following the retrieval of Harry, we learned that Mad-Eye died that night. Even though I always thought Mad-Eye was a bit, well, mad, I had been shocked and saddened to lose one of our greatest Aurors.

But in the days following the loss of Mad-Eye, we had to get ready for the wedding.

Oh, that damned wedding. 

I wake up the next day after Mad-Eye’s death, and overhear Ron and Harry talking. My room is on top of the dining room, so I can hear anything that goes on provided I use an Extendable Ear. I nicked one from the twins last year, and I’m glad I did. This conversation is proving to be juicy.

"Well, you can't do anything about the ... till you're seventeen. You've still got the trace on you. And we can plan here as well as anywhere, can't we? Or...d'you reckon you already know where the you-know-whats are?"

"No," I hear Harry saying.

"I think Hermione's been doing a bit of research, she said she was saving it for when you got here."

My interest is thoroughly piqued now. What can't they do anything about? What does Ron mean by the "you-know-whats?" Oh, God, I hear Mum coming. I stash the Ear under my pillow and feign deep sleep.

"Time to rise and shine, dearies," Mum trills.

"God, Mum," I moan. "Not now!" I roll over.

"There's a wedding to prepare for, love," Mum says cheerfully.

Hermione is still asleep and mumbles something into her pillow that sounds suspiciously like "Ron" and I have to hide my snicker.

I get out of bed and rub her shoulder.

"Oh, Ron... _ GINNY _ ?"

"Not what you were hoping to wake up for, was it?" I cheek and Hermione throws her pillow at me.

We go and get ready for the day after that. Mum seems determined to keep my three best friends apart, because she's got this notion in her head that she can prevent them from going off and destroying evil together if she keeps them busy.

I don't have the heart to tell Mum that all of her tasks are in vain. I already know about the spattergroit-infected ghoul, and I don't know what Hermione did, but I caught her the other night looking at a photo and crying silently.

"You okay, Hermione?"

"N-no...I just miss Mummy and Daddy so much," she sniffled. "Sometimes...I wonder...is it worth it?"

I desperately wanted to know what the "it" is and bit my tongue to prevent myself from interrogating my best friend who's sitting five feet away from me.

"You're not going back to Hogwarts, are you?" I asked softly.

"Truth be told, Ginny, I am going to go back."

"What?" Ron and Harry wouldn’t last a minute without her.

"Not this year, though. Or however long it takes Harry to destroy You-Know-Who."

The lights in our room went out, and I knew that meant that we should probably be asleep.

* * *

 

Anyway, on the third night that Harry's here (I wish I could be spending those nights with him), I manage to catch him when we set the table for dinner.

"I think Mum thinks that if she can stop the three of you getting together and planning, she'll be able to delay you leaving," I whisper.

My elbow brushes against his accidentally and my whole arm tingles. Harry feels it too, I know, because his eyes flash, but doesn't say anything about it.

"And then what does she think's going to happen? Someone else might kill off Voldemort while she's holding us here making vol-au-vents?"

Oh, God. So they _really_ are going to do it, aren't they? The blood drains from my face.

"So it's true? That's what you're trying to do?"

Harry's face tightens momentarily and then relaxes. "I- not- I was joking," he evades.

We stare at each other, and for the oddest reason I feel that twinge of desire in my belly. I remember those stolen hours under the trees by the lake, in abandoned classrooms, and I bite my lip. We had never done anything beyond snogging. Harry hasn't even made it to, well, groping me yet. He is far too much of a gentleman for that.

In my other relationships, with Dean, and with Michael, we never did anything except snog. If one of them went too far, I would break it off and go tell them to take a cold shower.

The door opens and we both jump. I snap my eyes away from his intense...emeralds...and berate myself for the umpteenth time. I'm starting to sound like a sodding romance novel. Ginny Weasley does not imitate romance novels!

As fate would have it, I am crammed next to Harry and the side of my body closest to his feels warm and happy. Harry, being a gentleman, is trying to avoid brushing my elbow and I am trying to brush his elbow so it makes cutting our chickens a little awkward.

Come on, Harry, I think. Just a bit closer...just some elbow contact, please?  _ Please _ ?

My mental pleas go unanswered, and then someone at the dinner table brings up the Daily Prophet and all hell breaks loose. Harry goes off on a tangent, which I find to be quite sexy, until he makes a fist and I see the scars on his hand.

God, I am going to kill Umbridge the first chance I get. How dare she do that? To my Harry? ...Or, rather, to anyone? It’s so inhumane, the idea of a blood quill.

Mum is now banging on about the immense list of chores to do before the wedding, and I grit my teeth. If I have to wrap one more present or fold one more napkin-

Ron erupts. "Why in the name of Merlin's saggy left-"

"Don't talk to your mother like that," Dad scolds.

I hide my smirk behind my napkin.

The next day is full of...more...wrapping and napkin folding, and I swear that when I get married to Harry, I am going to have a simple wedding, and that Mum is not to be told about the wedding until the actual day itself.

Mum is being unusually benevolent to me today, and tells me I can go to my room for a few hours.

I immediately snatch my Ear from under my pillowcase and press it up against the ceiling, next to Ron's attic bedroom. I fold myself up and crouch atop my bookcase, which is held up by magic so I'm not too worried.

I hear thumps.

Oh, Merlin, ew!

I breath a sigh of relief when I hear Harry's voice.

Suddenly I hear a burst of tears and it's Hermione. A great creaking occurs and then someone blows their nose.

"What are you doing with all these books anyway?"

"Just trying to decide which ones to take with us," a feminine voice says, "when we're looking for the horcruxes."

_ What the hell is a horcrux? _

"Oh, of course," Ron says, "I forgot we'll be hunting down Voldemort in a mobile library."

My eyes nearly fall out. Did Ron just say You-Know-Who's name out loud? Without stuttering? Merlin.

An indistinct voice talks, and then I hear Harry's voice: "Are you sure you've thought this through?"

Hermione's voice rises slightly.

"Let's see,  _ -slam- _ I've been packing for  _ days _ so we're ready to leave at a moment's notice, which for your information has included doing some pretty difficult magic, not to mention smuggling Mad-Eye's whole stock of Polyjuice Potion right under Ron's mum's nose. I've also modified my parent's memories so that they're convinced they're really called Wendell and Monica Welkins and their life's ambition is to move to Australia, which they have now done. That's to make it more difficult for Voldemort to track them down and interrogate them about me-or you, because unfortunately, I've told them quite a bit about you. Assuming I survive our hunt for the Horcruxes, I'll find Mum and Dad and lift the enchantment. If I don't-well, I think I've cast a good enough charm to keep them safe and happy. Wendell and M-monica We-welkins d'don't know they've got a daughter, y-you see," and I know that Hermione is fighting tears.

I'm gobsmacked. God, Harry has got friends!

Several minutes later, in which I grow increasingly uncomfortable cooped up on my bookshelf with my Ear pressed against the ceiling, a horrid sucking noise echoes. Must be the spattergroited ghoul.

Then Mum calls me downstairs.

I leap from my bookcase, stuff my Ear in my pocket, and rush downstairs.

I'm to help dust some more napkin rings.

Several minutes later, Mum explodes.

**_"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY, HOW MANY TIMES MUST I TELL YOU, YOU ARE NOT TO LEAVE ANY DUST ON THESE?"_ **

Ugh. If I could do magic, that wouldn't have happened.

I grit my teeth and furiously rub the offending napkin ring, then hand it back to Mum who levitates it onto the growing pile of ugly napkin rings.

Seriously, I can't believe someone as beautiful as Fleur would pick such ugly napkin rings for her wedding.

* * *

 

The next day, the Delacours finally arrive and I am in no mood to see these Frenchpeople who have made my life abso-goddamn-lutely terrible lately.

Mum rages at Ron for wearing mismatched socks (one's navy, one's black). It's early in the morning, d'you expect my seventeen-year-old brother to even be able to breathe yet? It's amazing he's got his eyes open.

Ron tromps upstairs to find a pair of socks and Harry is sent to the loo to attempt, unsuccessfully, to flatten his spiky hair.

I've always liked his spiky hair, anyway, so I don't see what the big deal is. I remember, fleetingly, running my hands through his hair when we were making out under the tree by the lake. It was nice.

I adjust my tee-shirt uncomfortably. I just went through a growth spurt and none of my stuff fits properly anymore. The shirt hugs my chest a little too closely and normally, I wouldn't mind, especially around Harry.

But I can't distract him from his mission-those Horcrux thingies, whatever they are. If they're a part of the mission to destroy old Moldypants, they can't be too pleasant. I don't want to know what they are and what they do, too-what if the Ministry comes looking?

My parents go to fetch the Frenchpersons, since no one can Apparate to the Burrow anymore.

A scary, high-pitched laugh comes from over the hill and Harry and I exchange frightened looks. 

The laugh is coming from my father. Ye gods. I notice Hermione moves slightly closer to Ron.

Fleur's mother, is, of course, absolutely beautiful and very very very French, and her husband is very very very short and fat with a pointy beard. He actually bounces on his high-heeled boots ("Completely bonkers, that one is," Fred murmurs to George, who nods vigorously in agreement) and kisses my mother twice on both cheeks. I am not going to let Old French Bouncey le Bounce kiss me.

"Yoo 'ave been to much trouuble," he says in an extremely deep voice, "Fleur tellz uzz u 'ave been vorking very 'ard."

I bite my tongue.

"Oh, it's been nothing, nothing," trills my traiterous mother. "No trouble at all!"

Ron kicks a gnome who was peering out of one of our Flutterby bushes. The gnome howls in protest, unnoticed by any of the adults.

"Dear Lady," booms Monsieur Bouncey Pants, still holding my mum's hand between his two fat ones, "we are most ‘onoured at ze approaching union of our two families! Let me present my wife, Apolline."

Madame Delacour glides-yes, glides, forward and gives my mum the two customary French kisses on the cheek. "Enchante, your 'usband 'as been telling us such ahmusing stories!"

My deranged father gives a maniacal-sounding laugh and Mum throws him a look.

Dad silences himself and assumes an expression appropriate to the sickbed of a close friend.

Fred and George are barely hiding their laughter.

My cheeks are probably going to bleed from biting them for so long. My stomach quivers with the suppressed laughs.

"And of course, you 'ave met my leetle daughter, Gabrielle," says Monsieur Delacour. Gabrielle is Fleur in the minature, down to the silvery hair. She gives Mum an absolutely dazzling smile and I swear her teeth actually sparkle. Gabrielle throws Harry a glowing look, batting her French eyelids and sighing a French sigh.

God. I grit my teeth and clear my throat so loudly that Hermione gives me an alarmed look.

Fortunately, as it soon appears, the Delacours are not bad houseguests at all. They won't be such bad in-laws, too.

On the downside, my Burrow can't accommodate so many people.

Thus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione aren't able to get together to make their plans for overthrowing Lord Voldyface, and I don't get as many chances to eavesdrop on their conversations.

So, I occupy myself with deciding what I want to give Harry for his birthday.

I can't give him just something. This is the man I love, the man with emerald eyes-there I go again, sounding like a total sap. Anyway, they probably won't take much with them so I don't want to give Harry too much of a big gift. Hermione's taken to carrying a pretty blue beaded bag wherever she goes. Perhaps she's on her menses or something?

Then it dawns on me. I need to give Harry a memory. A memory he can take with him when times are dark, when he needs to do a Patronus, when the going gets tough, when he can't find a Horcrux; whatever those things are...and so I set to plotting.

The morning of his birthday I get up two hours early and have a shower. Hermione gets up too, and does this incredible wandwork of hers that blow-dries my hair and makes it go all perfectly straight but soft and wavy at the same time. I throw my arms round her shoulders.

"Hermione, you're the best!" I declare and I notice a sad look crosses her face.

I don't prod, but I look in her eyes, trying to convey that I know that they're going to leave soon and that I believe in them.

Apparently the message is received and we hug again. I hear a slight sniffle.

I don't go down for breakfast yet. I want to surprise Harry.

Hermione makes a big show of going downstairs carrying a laundry basket.

"I'll pack these for you too," Hermione says, and then declares loudly: "I'm nearly done, I'm just waiting for your underpants to come out of the wash, Ron."

My brother's loud spluttering is interrupted by my opening a door.

I muster my courage up. "Harry, will you come in here a moment?"

Harry follows me in my room.

He spends a minute surveying my small, but bright room. I've got posters of the Weird Sisters, of Gwenog Jones, and a calendar. A desk faces the open window and a golden flag can be seen right in front of it.

I take a deep breath. "Happy seventeenth."

"Yeah...thanks."

I continue looking at him steadily.

"N-nice view," he says awkwardly. God, are all boys this dense?

"I couldn't think what to get you," I say truthfully.

"You didn't have to get me anything," Harry stutters.

"I didn't know what would be useful. Nothing too big, because you wouldn't be able to take it with you."

I take a step closer to him. "So, then, I thought I'd like you to have something to remember me by, you know, if you meet some veela when you're off doing whatever you're doing."

One side of Harry's mouth slants up in an incredibly sexy smirk.

"I think dating opportunities are going to be pretty thin on the ground, to be honest," he cheeks.

"There's the silver lining I've been looking for..." I whisper and before I lose my nerve I pull his head down to mine and press my lips against his.

He responds immediately and for several minutes we don't just snog, we kiss. A lover's kiss; the pure, sweet kind. I feel a swooping sensation in my lower half and am just about to stick my tongue in Harry's mouth when the sodding door has to open.

It's my idiotic brother.

"Oh, sorry."

"RON!" Hermione admonishes fiercely. Ron's ears are scarlet and Hermione is quite nervous.

Harry looks at me, his face full of pain, and I turn my back. I do my best not to cry. I don't cry publicly often, but this is a time that I feel most compelled to cry. I bite my lip.

"I'll see you later," he says.

I nod.

I understand why Ron is angry about this...I know I shouldn't have kissed Harry like that, but I had to. I had to let him know how much I loved and still love him. I want him to remember me when he's off on his trip. My back tingles as I think of how his hands had been running through my long hair.

We come across each other during the day, but I don't let on that I'm still torn up over that morning.

Once he catches my eye out in the orchard, and I feel a warm sensation spreading throughout my body when he grins but then Ron clears his throat.

Damn.

Mum comes through the courtyard and there is a great big cake shaped like a Snitch. It is really quite an amazing cake, thanks to Fleur. Fleur loves to bake and decorate cakes, and with her wand, she can do a fantastic job of it.

The dinner is really quite lovely, until the Minister of Magic comes in. Bugger.

He takes the trio inside and I bite my lip. Fifteen minutes later, Harry stalks out of the Burrow, looking rather angry, accompanied by a tearstained Hermione and a consoling Ron. Ron, who was once known as being the greatest insensitive wart in all of Britain, has been quite a gentleman to Hermione as of late. Maybe he realized what was under his nose all this time...

We sit down, and hurriedly eat our dinner. There is a great gulping of cake (which is rather good, after all) and then everyone departs to prepare for the next day.

* * *

 

At three o'clock the next day, the wedding takes place.

I spend much of the morning getting ready. Fortunately my dress is not pink. Gabrielle and I have bonded quite nicely once we discovered that we both hate pink.

"I absolutely detest peenk," she confided to me one day when we were getting our final alterations done. "Eet ees too preencessy."

I took it that she said "princessy" and responded with, "I hate pink, too. My favorite color is...green," and I blushed despite myself.

"Oh, 'ow romantic," she squealed. "Ees eet because 'Arry's eyes are green?"

I turned the same color as my hair. "Well...I suppose so," I murmur.

"I see 'ow you look at heem, you love heem," the French eleven-year-old across from me said wisely.

"What's your favorite colour?" I asked hastily.

The witch who was fitting our robes, entered our little closet-sized part of the Burrow. She was levitating some thread into the room and upon hearing my question, looked rather put out, obviously hoping to hear more about our love lives. I don't think eleven-year-olds have such a thing...anyway. "My favourite colour ees violeet," Gabrielle sighs. "Zee colour of royalty, I 'ave 'eard, and eet does not hurt zat I look good een it," she laughed.

In the present day, Hermione is doing some hair-fixing with her wand and Gabrielle is looking hungrily at the wand. "Can you do zat for me?" she asks.

"Why, yes, of course, Gabby," Hermione smiles.

Hermione looks rather stunning herself. She's wearing a beautiful lavender-colored dress that floats off the ground. She's curled her bushy hair into ringlets that cascade down her back. I'm sure Ron is going to go absolutely bonkers when he sees her. A smirk crosses my face when I think about Harry's reaction to me.

I slip my golden slippers on, and then Mum does my hair in curls just like Hermione's but not quite as full or tight. The curls are more in the back.

Gabrielle bounces over to me. "Look at meee," she crows. "My 'air!"

Her silvery-blond hair is now long and straight down her back, with some hair pulled back and braided. Hermione stammers, "I'm not finished yet.." and flicks her wand. She mutters something and Gabrielle's hair becomes wavy.

I am so jealous.

Finally, three o'clock comes and it's time to get this sodding wedding over with once and for all.

I love Fleur, and now, I love Gabrielle, but the wedding preparations were far too much.

We make our way down the aisle and Fleur is literally glowing. Usually, her veela-ness is what makes her glow, and pales everyone else out, but today she makes everyone else look as good as she does.

Auntie Muriel says in a rather carrying whisper, "Yes, my tiara sets everything off rather nicely...but I must say, Ginevra's dress is far too low-cut."

I glance around the audience, grinning saucily, and then catch Harry's eye, which is no longer green. He's disguised as one of our umpteen cousins. I wink and grin. His face nearly goes slack and my smile turns into a smirk.

The rest of the wedding is rather beautiful.

Once we've made our way into the reception hall, I sit down with Gabrielle and engage her in conversation.

I see Harry, still disguised as our red-haired cousin Barny, deep in conversation with some white-haired wizard and my Auntie Muriel.

Luna and her father, both clothed in eye-watering lemon yellow, are doing some sort of whirling dance.

I smile. Maybe this coming year won't be so bad, if life can stay like this.

And then, once again, as it always does, all hell breaks loose when a silver Patronus streaks into the middle of the courtyard.

It's Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice-I would know that voice anywhere.

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.." His deep, slow voice echoes out over our entire tent.

Immediately people panic. I hear loud cracks, and that means they're apparating.

The protective charms have been broken...I see Harry, holding Hermione and Ron's hands, and burn that image into my mind forever.

 


	4. One True Pairing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny sort of pushes Neville and Luna together, much to their consternation.

**Now we start moving into the more creative territory, and I shamelessly plug #nuna, one of the sweetest ships in the HP fandom.**

 

The day after the wedding I wake up in sort of a haze. I can't believe that Bill and Fleur were married. I never thought I'd have Phlegm as a family member. (I probably shouldn't call her that anymore...) I almost expect to see Harry at the table and then it all comes rushing back to me. Damn.

I remember seeing him and Ron and Hermione meeting and Apparating off to someplace. There were Death Eaters swooping in and sparks flying everywhere between my dad and mum and the twins.

It was absolute and utter mayhem...and yes, I did manage to get a few spells in myself. I don't plan to let anyone know. There was so much magic flying round, they couldn't Trace any of mine, probably.

So after we'd fended off all the Death Eaters we had to clean up the debris they left behind.

Mum was using magic to make the tablecloths fold themselves when she suddenly started sobbing.

"Mum?"

"Oh, Ginny...Harry and Ron and Hermione are gone, aren't they?"

"Yes, I suppose they are," I said carefully. I didn't want to let on that I'd known they were planning to leave either today or tomorrow.

"I knew they would leave," Mum said softly.

I moved over and gave her a hug.

She squeezed me closer and for about five minutes we stayed there like that, just crying in each other's arms.

I do hope Mum and I continue to get along like this, it's much better than how it was before.

Today I have to go to Diagon Alley and get my sixth year stuff. Sigh. I am not looking forward to Hogwarts this year, and not just because, well, you know, Harry won't be there.

Dumbledore's not going to be there. I never thought about it until now. It's going to be awfully odd to not have him twinkling down on us during the First Supper.

After having a shower, I wring my hair out and get ready with Mum to Apparate to Diagon Alley.

It's around nine o'clock, which in the summer is like the crack of dawn for me. Ugh.

The familiar feeling of being squeezed through a tube hits me and I know that we're on our way to get our school supplies.

"Well, here we are," Mum exclaims. I know she's disappointed that she's only purchasing supplies for one child when she should be for two. Four, really, since Harry is like her son and Hermione is a surrogate daughter.

I am pondering the greenness of Harry's eyes when I realize that Mum's gone off and left me. I race after her and run into someone with nearly-white hair.

Luna! One of my best friends!

"Oh, Ginny," Luna exclaims breathlessly. "I was so worried that the Nargles had gotten to you!"

"Nope," I grin, "still in one piece. So did you manage to get away safely?"

Luna's silvery-blue eyes go from dancing with merriment to seriousness. "Yes, thankfully."

She drops her voice. "But...Harry and Ron-they're not coming back to Hogwarts this year, are they?"

"No."

"Oh, that's a shame. But I suppose what they're doing is more important."

Once again, Luna is right. Even though it's uncomfortable to hear the truth.

Luna takes my hand and we walk through the Alley.

Mum runs into us and after berating me for running off (even though she was the one who ran off) tells us to stick together or "I'll hex Harry's bits off."

"MUM!" I feel myself turning uncharacteristically red. Luna smothers her giggles behind her hand and pretends to be absorbed in a poster advertising "WAYS TO FEND OFF INFERI".

Luna and I walk off to Weasley's Wheezes.

"Uh...have you heard from Neville at all?" Luna asks me.

Oh ho! Now she asks!

"No, I'm afraid I haven't. But I think he's doing quite well," I say slowly, studying Luna's face.

She's looking straight ahead but I know she's fighting a smile. I can tell by the dimple creasing in one of her cheeks.

"Tell me. Do you fancy him?" I ask devilishly.

"I'm not saying I don't. That doesn't mean I do fancy him," she sniffs.

Entering the garishly orange door of my brothers' joke shop, I see Target Number One standing obliviously next to a shelfful of Dungbombs.

This will be spectacular.

I tell Luna I have to go to the loo, and she nods. She's engrossed with some Pygmy Puff display at the front. I sneak back and move a few of the little bombs around. Luna then comes over.

"Ginny?"

"Yeah?"

I then trip on the Dungbombs, and Neville turns around. "Oh, hi Gin-AAAAAH!"

Sticking my foot out so that Luna trips over it, which thus sets the display off, and thence causes Target No. 1 to fall atop Target No. 2, I accomplish my first mission of the year.

Which is getting these two to admit that they like each other.

The smoke dissipates and amid much laughter, the two get up.

"Sorry about that," Neville mutters. His face is quite red. He's lost some weight over the summer and he's grown taller again. Luna has some quite nice eye candy.

I only have eyes for Harry, of course...

Anyway, Luna turns a pretty sort of pink, and goes off on some tangent about how "the Wrackspurts were responsible."

I notice, however, she shoots me a glare. I feign absolute innocence.

George comes over. I get over the shock of his ear-I'll never get used to seeing it, or not seeing it, I mean, and say hello.

"Ginny...what have you done?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, why?" Fred pops up next to his identical twin.

I stand on my tippytoes. "I'm trying to get Luna and Nev together," I whisper.

Fred and George exchange looks.

 _Uh-oh_.

"Bloody brilliant," George exclaims.

"Sodding excellent," Fred cheers.

"For that, we'll give you a half-price love potion," George says.

"No thanks. I prefer the real thing," I say saucily and smirk as I watch Fred go pale.

"Oh, God! Ew, Ginny!" he cries.

"Wait until our mum-"

"Hears about this-"

"You'll be locked-"

"In your room-"

"FOREVVEEERR," they both finish in a creepy voice.

"Sod off," I retort rudely and then go over to Luna. Neville is kind of staring at her and she's looking at him.

"Luna?"

"What? Oh, hi, Ginny."

Neville snaps his eyes away from the blonde-haired vision-albeit slightly dirty vision-and clears his throat. "Ahem. Well, um, we were just..."

"Talking about school," Luna says.

Even Professor Trelawney can see a future for them, it's so bleeding obvious.

Best not to rush it, though. Neville accompanies us for the rest of our shopping trip and when it comes time to say goodbye, I give him a friendly hug.

"Thank you," he whispers in my ear.

"For what?" I breathe.

"You know."

"I haven't the foggiest idea," I deny, but with a smirk on my face.

Luna gives us an odd look, and then shrugs. I give her a goodbye hug so as to force them to say goodbye to each other alone.

Mum comes over, and we Apparate to the Burrow.

"Now, love, is it just me or were those two..."

"Yes, Mum. Luna fancies Neville, and I'm pretty sure he fancies her," I giggle.

"Oh, young love," Mum sighs. "I remember when..."

Evading a likely-to-be-too-detailed-and-hour-long story about her and my father, I dash up to my room under the pretence of "organising my Quidditch stuff".

When I get to my room, however, not much organising gets done. I end up sitting on my bed and staring at a photo of me and Harry.

I resolve not to cry over Harry. I know he'll be back, I know he will. But he won't be with me until he's destroyed Voldemort.

And, as I sit on my Holyhead Harpies bedspread, I come to realize that's all right with me.

I'll still miss Harry terribly, and I'm sure there are going to be times when I wish I could just quit Hogwarts and join him, but I want to be able to have ALL of Harry.

Selfishly, I suppose...I don't want Voldemort to always have to be in the back of his mind. 


	5. Calm Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last morning at the Burrow. And, should I say, the calm before the storm.

**Here I took a couple liberties with canon, and also added a lot of introspective!Ginny.**

_**August 31, 1996** _

I force myself out of my lovely bed and hobble downstairs to eat breakfast.

George's finally got his bandage off his head so he looks semi-normal. He nods at me at the table and I nod in return.

I am far too bleary to talk, so I just shovel the porridge that Mum made me in my mouth and then head upstairs. I can worry about showering later; I have a far more important task ahead of me.

I must organise and pack. I absolutely despise these two things, but it must be done. I mean, the train leaves tomorrow, and everything.

Pushing other boxes out of the way in the attic—the Ghoul moans in protest at the noise and covers his slimy head with a pillow—I find my trunk and lug it downstairs. I wish Ron were here to magick it down for me; even with my Quidditch muscles the trunk is still far too heavy.

Once I'm in my room, I open the trunk and marvel at how much I was able to fit in it the past five years. All of my school uniforms go in a heap on the floor, and I set to work on the textbooks.

For some reason, Hermione comes to mind and tears prick my eyes.

She would've wanted me to take every possible book I could to school.

I've already set aside my sixth-year required equipment. I chuck aside the stuff from fourth year without a thought-what a joke Umbridge was! When I find Lockhart's old books I pause. My first year at Hogwarts was not entirely pleasant. Sure, I was finally attending school with my brothers, and I got to be in the exact same House as Harry Potter himself, and it was wicked awesome to use magic, and all that stuff. I just wish I hadn't written in that damn diary. I don't know where it is now, nor do I wish to know. I'm just glad Harry saved my life and destroyed it. Shaking off unpleasant mental images from that year, I move on to old Potions ingredients. I put my cauldron next to my 6th-year-pile, in addition to some quills, ink, and a Skiving Snackbox.

I had been saving it for an emergency, and something tells me that this year I may need all the Skiving Snackboxes I can get.

Hmm. Maybe I should go nick a few from George and Fred's room?

I decide to see if I can pack everything else first, and move on to my Muggle clothes.

Oh, wow, I can't believe I wore that horrid thing first year. Ew.

I move all of my too-small clothes into a pile that Mum wants to Donate to Less Fortunate Witches, as if we weren't 'less fortunate' ourselves. I hate that term—I consider myself very fortunate indeed.

I prefer not to elaborate on why, because then I might start thinking about a certain pair of green eyes and a broad chest and warm hands and—bugger, I'm doing it again.

Perhaps Wrackspurts do exist after all. Luna might be onto something?

Anyway, I dig in my dresser drawers and stuff three pairs of jeans (Hermione told me the day before the wedding she'd put her Muggle clothes in my drawer, I could tailor them magically at Hogwarts) into the trunk.

Hermione has really good taste, I think to myself, fingering a nice knit pullover. Then again, she couldn't exactly fit her whole closet into that beaded bag she carried around for a whole week up to the wedding.

Sigh. I wish I could do that to my trunk, then I could take ALL of my Muggle clothes.

Stuffing every pair of knickers, bras, and stockings into the bottom of the trunk, I blush when I wonder what Harry looks like shirtless. Silly me! I have seen him shirtless—in his fourth year, at the TriWizard tournament. But he was only fourteen and not quite as handsome as he is now.

"GINNY!"

"Yes, Mum?"

"Are you packing, love?"

"That's what I'm doing," I yell down.

"Keep at it then, dearie, and I want you to go to bed early tonight," she calls.

"Fine," I reply.

I finish folding all of Hermione's clothes into my trunk. I'm taking some of my own stuff—I don't have much, anyway—but I do have to admit that I love Hermione's style.

I put all of my textbooks and school things into the remaining space, and then pack a small knapsack for the train and in general. Once I've located feminine necessities, I stuff them into the trunk and lump a blanket over them.

My knapsack has my wand, a notebook and a pencil, a sandwich, and a picture of Harry and me under a tree near the Lake. I smile when I see the arm of the Giant Squid waving in the background.

The first thing I'm going to do once I set foot on the grounds is feed the Squid my sandwich.

I go to Fred and George's room, steal about 10 skiving snackboxes, leaving a note with "these will be put to good use at school". They can't be mad, if they know I'll be pranking people.

I sit down on my bed, slightly winded from all the organising I just did.

And then I see something sticking out from under my mattress.

Wiggling the mattress over a little, I extract the object from the bedsprings.

It's an envelope with "Ginny" on front.

I open it eagerly.

_"Dearest Ginny,_

_I stuck this under your bed the day before the wedding. I had a feeling something would happen, and if you're reading this, something certainly did happen. I gather you're enjoying my clothing, by the way, and if it doesn't fit use my trusty tailoring spell: 'Perfectus Raimentus". Make sure you have the idea of how you want it to fit in your mind's eye. If you want to change the color concentrate on the exact colour in your mind and say, "Noveli Gradientus". Have fun with those!_

_Anyway, Harry, Ron, and I are all on the run. We're doing something that Dumbledore told Harry to do, and even me saying that is probably too much information. We are in great danger—all of us, including you. You're a pureblood, yes, but by mere association with Gryffindor, Ron, and Harry, you are a 'blood traitor'. I suppose you already know all this, anyway, but please, please, for the love of Merlin, do not tell anyone our whereabouts or our mission. Stay safe and be smart. Ron says stay away from boys, ~~and I suppose Harry says the same, too...~~_

_But really, Harry won't admit it--he loves you and it would kill him if anything happened to you. You're like my sister and I would be devastated too. Take care of Luna, Neville, Dean, and Seamus, too. Give them all my love. I hope to see you when all of this is over. Love, Hermione_

_P.S. Use your Galleon!_

I fold the letter up and take a shaky breath.

I appreciate the clothing spells, and decide to write them in my notebook for the train, but the other parts unsettle me. Why say anything if it was too dangerous to even write it? And use my Galleon? Use my Galleon? Oh! I suppose she means the DA Galleon—it's tucked safely in my knapsack pocket, but what for? I'm quite sure she's not going to be communicating with me on the run.

Putting the letter in my notebook, I run down to eat a bit of lunch, and then have a shower.

The whole time, I'm thinking, or trying not to think about, Harry's mission. What could it be that's so dangerous (other than him being the Boy-Who-Lived?)

Since the current chain of thoughts is depressing me, I think about Neville and Luna. I hope they strike up a romance this year; that would be simply marvelous and bring some brightness to an otherwise dark year.

After Mum dries off my towel and soap with her wand, I store them in my trunk and lock it firmly.

Mum levitates the trunk downstairs and I walk in front of it.

After it's by the front door, I go up to my room and lie down on my bed. Staring at the ceiling aimlessly, I pretend that I'm looking at the stars.

I make a wish on one particularly large crack in my ceiling—not a wish for Harry, not a wish for me, but a wish for the entire wizarding world. I wish for peace.

* * *

 

Mum calls me down for supper and we eat in silence. Dad's still at the Ministry, Gred-and-Forge are down at the shop, and thus it's just Mum and me.

I go to bed that night around eight, which is ridiculously early for someone who's nearly sixteen, but whatever. I need my sleep.

Waking up at the crack of dawn, I stretch my arms.

It's not even light out yet. In fact, the clock on the wall is pointing to "Ungodly Hour" at the four o'clock spot.

Sigh. I desperately need a wee, so I amble over to the bathroom.

Once I'm all done, I hop in the shower, hoping it'll wake me up.

Of course, ten minutes later, I'm still half-asleep as I towel off and pull my trousers on—a really cute pair of acid-washed jeans from Hermione. (I'm sure that's what she called them, anyway—I don't understand why Muggles would put their clothing in acid! I do like how it looks though.) I pull on a blue-and-white striped tee that seems a bit boxy and too big.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I realise that I actually look like a Muggle for once—a very fashionable one, I hope.

After lacing my trainers up, I walk downstairs for breakfast.

Mum looks up at me, pauses, and sighs. "Good morning, dear—what is _that_?"

"Mione left me some of her clothes."

"How sweet of her..." Mum mutters absent-mindedly and returns to her stirring of flapjacks.

The sky is starting to turn a dusky blue, with a small glow on the horizon.

"Oh, dear—eat up, love, we mustn't be late," she urges me.

I roll my eyes but chew more quickly to appease her. I don't want my last morning at home for the term to be full of arguing.


	6. Off She Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The train journey to Hogwarts, as well the last time Ginny will be happy for quite a while. Yeehaw!!

**Took a cue from the movie in this chapter.**

I finish my breakfast, and rush upstairs to brush my teeth. Dad's already at the Ministry—at least, I presume. Something tells me to visit the attic.

So, I go upstairs to talk to our lovely ghoul.

"Hello," I whisper.

He—or it—grunts.

"Ghoul, we're counting on you to keep Ron safe. Today you're going to move into his room. Don't bang around, okay?"

He nods and reaches out, so I gingerly take Ghoul's hand.

It's a bit slimy...but not gross.

"Goooo luuuuu," he says.

I smile. I'm going to need it. "Thank you."

I look back, and the Ghoul waves me off. "Go," he mutters. I smile. The ghoul's been a part of our family for years and I hope he makes it through this alright. 

I suppose Ghouls are a lot smarter than they look.

Running down our many flights of stairs, I find Mum waiting with my trunk. She and I Apparate, or rather, I side-along, and shortly we are at the parking lot outside. I feel myself knotted and unknotted and we land in King's Cross. I stumble a little. The flapjacks in my stomach are threatening to come up.

Pushing a trolley with my trunk on it, I walk with Mum towards the barrier.

"It's odd, just you and me..." Mum murmurs wistfully.

I understand exactly what she means. Once we get to 9 ¾, I give her a long hug good-bye, and get on the train. Blinking tears back, I look out the window. Mum waves, looking like she's holding back sobs of her own. I mouth, 'I love you'. She nods.

Luna appears next to me, and as always, looks surprised. I suppose it's her eyebrows... Anyway, Neville comes in, nods at Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbot, then sits next to me. Oh, come on, Nev...sit next to Luna, you idiot, I think to myself.

Other sixth and seventh-year Gryffindors come in, people like Lavender Brown, Seamus Finnegan, and Colin Creevey. Colin's still tiny—but he's my height now. That isn't saying much, however... 

Ernie MacMullin joins us several minutes later, hand in hand with Susan Bones.

"So, what d'you reckon the year's gonna be like?" Neville asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence between the three of us.

Pretty much our whole group is quiet, though.

"I don't really know. But Daddy told me to keep my friends close and my Nargles closer," Luna says.

"It's going to be..." I take a breath, "a _challenge_ , I think."

"It's going to be different..." Colin says more to himself.

"Different how?" Luna asks gently.

"Dumbledore's gone, for one," Seamus says darkly, the Irish merriment disappearing from his eyes briefly.

"Not just that," Colin says, "but the atmosphere is going to be different. All the Muggleborns are going to be gone." Seamus looks out the window, presumably thinking of Dean.

Justin looks at Hannah. "It's...um...going to be scary," Hannah says quietly. "But we mustn't let it stop us," she continues, in a stronger voice, "because we've got hope, and love, and friendship. Things that You-Know-Who can't even comprehend." My eyes nearly water. I lean over and give her a quick shoulder rub. She smiles.

"Harry's not coming back, is he, Ginny?" Neville whispers. I shake my head.

I notice a look passes between him and Luna.

I look out the window, having switched with Luna while Neville was in the loo, and I wonder where Harry is now. Certainly not on this train, nor in one of these wheaty-coloured fields.

Luna is telling Neville all about Nargles, and for some reason I can't stop smiling at the thought of the two of them together, with blue-eyed brunette children, all good at Herbology and having frighteningly positive attitudes.

I am nearly asleep against the window, and Hannah, having come to sit next to me, is already out against my shoulder. Justin is on her shoulder too, and Colin snaps a picture of the three of us. I don't mind, since he's shown a real knack for wizarding photography in the past year.

Dreaming in-and-out, waking up, watching everyone else around me, then falling asleep again, is how the next few hours go. I hope the rest of the year is this nice.

Suddenly the lights go out, and the train screeches to a horrible stop.

Someone's hand clutches mine and I realize it's Neville's, dragging me over to where he and Luna were sitting earlier. I draw my wand out of my jeans pocket, and adjust my striped shirt.

The ugliest man I've ever seen in my life appears at the door to our compartment/cabin.

"Hey, idiot!" Neville bellows. The man looks at him.

"He's not here, losers," Nev continues and I hear Luna's gasp. I can't deny how brave Neville is being right now. Kind of hot, actually—but I only go for green-eyed, black-haired, short men so Luna can have Neville if she wants.

The man points his wand menacingly at me.

"Where is he then?"

"I don't know."

"Cruc-" I close my eyes-tensing myself, preparing for the burst of pain-

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Seamus is yelling, and he Stuns the presumed Death Eater out cold.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Suddenly the lights go on again and we start moving normally. I catch my breath.

Colin snaps a picture of the man, of us, and of the opened door.

"I just surprised myself..." Neville whispers to Luna.

"No, I saw that coming all along," she replies.

Smiling in spite of myself, and putting my wand away, I pull my robes out of my knapsack. All of us girls gather on one side of the car while the boys gather on the other and everyone changes rather hurriedly.

We turn back around. "Your tie's askew, Nev," Luna states, causing some of us to giggle.

Nev fixes his tie and we sit back down together for the last hour of the trip. I hold onto every smile, laugh, bright moment, that I can. I know that I'm going to need every golden moment locked away in my head.


	7. Murphy's Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Ginny's back at school, everything is horribly different. She's going to have to call on every bit of magical knowledge to get through this year, let alone each day.

**Murphy's Law is the title of this chapter because everything that can go wrong, goes wrong for Ginny and the #squad. #Squadgoals are certainly not met, and in fact will probably not be met for quite a while. Most of this is going to be original content, and while I will try to add humor here and there, it's going to be suuuuuper dark. The Carrows are horrible people. I took some source inspiration from[Thanfiction's](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4315906/1/Dumbledore-s-Army-and-the-Year-of-Darkness) excellent fic  _Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness_ in this chapter, I highly recommend it. It's a great look into Neville's growth as a leader and badass.**

 

Neville, Luna, Seamus, Justin, Susan, Hannah, and I get in one of the thestral-drawn carriages after debarking from the train. I used to not be able to see thestrals, but after last year's battle I can certainly see them now. I shake off the foreboding feeling creeping up my spine and sit next to Luna.

"Wonder who'll be the Defence professor," Seamus asks offhandedly.

"Hope it's a good one. At any rate, it can't be Snape, 'cause he scarpered after that....incident last year," Seamus replies, staring out the window at a wisp of fog rolling against the dark hills. I sigh. I'm starving. 

When we eventually get to the gates of the school, I'm taken aback. Everyone is being searched before they go in. 

"Blood status?" 

I answer "pureblood, from the Prewett-Weasley line," and the Ministry worker waves me in. 

That was odd. We've never been asked our blood status before. I guess it's to weed out anyone who lied about their heritage, due to the new Muggleborn rule.

As I take my seat at the Gryffindor table next to Neville and Lavender, who I have mostly forgiven for the shenanigans of last year, I look at the table. McGonagall's there, but not at the headmaster seat. That's also odd--she would certainly have taken on the role of headmistress after Dumbledore's death. Who is it? 

My answer comes when I see black robes billowing down the hall. Oh, God. It's Snape.

Severus Snape is now the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Just when I think life can't possibly get any worse, he takes up the lecturn and stares broodily down at everyone. The Sorting's already happened, so there can't be much to say. 

"Welcome back to Hogwarts. This year will be different," he says. "Please welcome our new Dark Arts and Muggle Studies professors, Alecto and Amycus Carrow."

Dark Arts? Carrow? I rack my brains as to where I've heard that name before. 

 

Oh _fuck_. Those are Death Eater names. Lavender clutches my hand under the table and we exchange a look.

When we get up to Gryffindor Tower, I follow Lavender to her room because I know she'll need someone to be with her tonight, someone familiar and on the Light Side. Parvati has already gone to bed, and must have drawn up a silencing charm because I hear nothing from her side of the room.

 

"What are we going to do?" Lavender speaks after about ten minutes of silence.

"I don't know." I answer, honestly. "I really don't know. But what I do know is that I'm going to fight, and you had better fight too."

"I just...I don't know how to fight," she whispers. I gather her in my arms and she breaks down in tears, and we sit there for a long time.

"Ginny, I'm scared."

"I'm scared too."

When I eventually leave to go to my own room, I determine that I will protect not only myself, but all of my friends and as much of Hogwarts as I'm able.

* * *

 

On the second day of classes, I'm set to have Muggle Studies. I take my seat next to Luna, as it's now a mandatory double with Ravenclaw, and she smiles thinly at me. I take my parchment and quill out, and try not to draw any attention to myself.

Alecto Carrow enters the room. "There is no speaking when I am speaking, she begins," and I sigh. Maybe it won't be as bad as I'm thinking and it'll just be like having Umbridge, horrible as that was.

Then she delves further into the lesson. My disgust grows more and more, and when a small spatter of blood drips from my hand onto the parchment, I realize that I've cut myself, my fist was clenched so hard. Luna points her wand under the desk and nonverbally heals it. 

"Any witch or wizard who marries a Muggle is taking a terrible risk. The children born from such unnatural unions --" Carrow points at the blackboard, "Can expect deformity, retardation, severe anti-social tendencies, and often a complete lack of magical ability. In addition, as Muggle females are ill-bred to handle magical children, serious complications can result in such pregnancies, leading in some cases to the death of the female. Likewise, an attempt by a witch to carry the child of a Muggle male –"

It's so horrible I have to force myself to take notes and tune her out. I know I can't act out, no matter how bad this is. I had heard of people speaking up and being cursed. 

After Muggle Studies gets out, I go to the Gryffindor common room, where a terrifying sight greets me.

Seamus Finnegan is lying on the couch, and Neville is giving him some sort of green herb water. He whispers, "Seamus mouthed off to Carrow, and-well, she didn't like that much."

Disliking it is an understatement. Seamus looks as if he's been sat upon by a hippogriff, then Crucio'd.

A crowd of Gryffindors, and some Ravenclaws-how did they get here-begins to amass. Mainly old DA people.

When Seamus's puffy eyes finally open, fury rises in me and I stomp over. "What the fuck were you trying to do?!" I yell.

"Shh. T-too loud. I...I was try..trying to make an ezzample."

"Oh, an example!? Seamus. You could have died," I growl.

Neville raises the bowl of weird green liquid to Seamus's mouth and orders him to drink. When Seamus balks, Neville says in a rather affronted tone, "It's Herbology stuff, not a potion. Now, drink and tell us what the hell possessed you to do such a thing."

Seamus drinks, and the color gradually returns to him. Parvati regrows some of his teeth.

"Why am I here and not in the hospital wing?"

Neville answers again, not making eye contact with anyone, especially me. "Carrows wouldn't let us. Actually, only Slytherins can get in the hospital wing. Figured it was better not to let you get beat up more, so I brought you here."

"I couldn't stand...couldn't stand to hear her talk about Muggleborns like that. You know my heritage. My father. And Harry would want us to fight back. You know how he was."

Neville pauses. I think about Harry and the stories I heard about him standing up to Umbridge as well as his notorious sass of Snape last year.

"Seamus, I'm sure Harry wouldn't want you to die on the second day of class. Anyway, you've got a couple of cracked ribs, broken teeth, internal bruising, and probably a concussion, not to mention the fact that I had to levitate you because I was worried you had snapped your spine. I suggest you lie back and think about Gryffindors having a tendency to be brave to the point of stupidity, and then we need to talk about what you originally had in mind and make some decisions."

Neville sounds more and more confident with every word he speaks. Like a leader. No, Neville is a leader. He's our leader now.  


Colin Creevey has appeared, and he's giving Neville a look of awe that used to be reserved only for Harry. "You reminded me of Harry, just now, Neville. Back in the DA days."

Neville pinks quite considerably, and bites his lip. "I'm--I'm nothing like Harry, guys. I can't be like Harry. Besides, this is way more that we're dealing with than the days of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad."

That's true, but I still surprise myself by speaking. "Neville, you are _every bit as much_ Gryffindor as me or Colin or Seamus. You just show it differently. And how you spoke, just now, that was a leader speaking. We're going to need someone at the top if we've got any hope of surviving this year. And we also need strategies so that we don't end up like Seamus here," I glare pointedly and he manages a smirk, "and I...I think you're perfect for the job, Neville."

Everyone gradually agrees, nodding and adding their own reasons why Neville should head the new DA, and Neville only grows redder with each new accolade.

"You're-you're making too much of me," he hedges. I level my stare at him and he looks away uncomfortably.

"Neville, you were at the Ministry with us fourth, er, your fifth year. You stood up to Bellatrix, who I'd wager is even worse than Alecto Carrow. If you can do that, you can lead a resistance." I say stubbornly.

"Okay. Fine. But we've all of us got to hold a meeting...you know where. Look on your coins."

* * *

 

A couple days pass by, and my frustration grows evermore with the continued anti-Muggle propaganda being fed to us in nearly every class save for Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, and Potions.

I partner up with Siobhan, my roommate, in Potions. She's a redhead like me and we've struck up a friendship of sorts over the years from sharing a room and year. We're quite different, but I know I can trust her. She was an original member of Dumbledore's Army. I whisper, "DA on Friday. Keep an eye on your coin." 

She nods, and stirs the murky blue potion three times counter-clockwise until it turns into a pleasant turquoise. Slughorn walks by, and nods approvingly. At least I can do well in the classes that aren't Pureblood manic. 

I sprinkle in the diagonally-cut mushroom stalks, two at a time as per the textbook, and little puffs of orange smoke begin to waft out of the cauldron. 

"So, is it true?"

"What's true?"

"That he didn't come back?" I know she's talking about Harry.

"Yeah. He and my brother and Hermione are all gone." I whisper glumly.

"They must be so terribly brave and yet so terribly scared." All I can do is nod in response, and Siobhan sighs. She stirs the potion one last time, and then takes a vial of it. She passes it into my hands and I walk up to Slughorn and place it on the desk next to several varying shades of blue vials.

* * *

That night, I write down in my diary, using my magically enhanced ink that makes it look illegible to anyone but me, a list of people I can trust. 

It's pretty short. Only half a page.

Neville. Luna. Seamus. Parvati and Padma. Colin. Siobhan. 

I add, "Original Dumbledore's Army".

Closing my diary, and stowing it in my trunk, I get up on my bed and draw my curtains tightly closed. God. I feel as if a hundred thestrals have run me over and it's barely a week into school. We haven't even made it to the first Friday yet. I turn over and fall fast asleep, hoping that it'll make tomorrow and the meeting come faster.


	8. Loose Lips Sink Ships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans are had, and so are consequences.

"Bloody buggering hell bollocks," Neville exclaims as he opens up the front page of the Daily Prophet.

Every head at the table swivels in his direction at Neville's usage of such foul language.

Then I see the page. Our friends have gotten themselves into quite a spot of trouble.

I put my head in my hands.

Lavender awkwardly rubs my shoulders.

"I'm sure they're okay," she says.

"They broke into the goddamn Ministry. Which is controlled by You-Know-Who. How can they be okay!?" Neville says.

"This is like, the opposite of keeping your head down," Colin chimes in over his toast and eggs. I nod.

"Then again, it is Harry. He's physically incapable of avoiding trouble," I say almost fondly.

Seamus sits down, sees the newspaper, and shakes his head. "And you got mad at me for Wednesday."

"Yeah, but you could've died." Colin frowns.

"Did I die, though?"

I roll my eyes at the boys' exchange and focus on eating. I need to keep my strength up if I'm to endure today's Dark Arts lesson, knowing what happened to Seamus.

* * *

 

Later on, I meet up with Siobhan and we walk in silence to the Dark Arts dungeon.

"I will preface this class by reviewing some basic rules. There is no speaking unless spoken to. There will be consequences for those who speak out of turn. There will also be consequences for those who refuse to participate in the hands-on learning in this classroom," Amycus says briskly, sounding almost normal for a second. "Today, we'll be covering the finer points of offensive spells. You will practice on one another."

Knowing what I know of Amycus' sister, Alecto, this is going to be bad. Siobhan and I partner up, and I send her a silent apology with my eyes for whatever I'm about to do.

Soon, shouts of " _Impedimenta_!" and " _Stupefy_!" are ringing about the room.

Siobhan nearly misses me with a hex, and I dodge.

This almost reminds me of the DA. Maybe it won't be so horrible–

" _Stop_!" Amycus roars. "You are pathetic excuses for witches and wizards if you use such elementary and benign spells."

He points his wand at the chalkboard and five incantations appear in a bold scrawl: _Crucio_ is among them. "When you face the enemy you must not hesitate to use force!"

I've never performed any of these spells before and I know it could go horribly wrong. But I do know I won't Crucio my roommate. That's where I draw a line.

"You two." Amycus points at us. "Please demonstrate the Cruciatus curse." I give Siobhan a slight nod. If it has to be one of us, I'd rather be the one cursed.

Tears brim in her eyes, and her hand shakes.

I brace myself for the incredible pain, but feel only a tingle. "Cru- _crucio_ – I-I can't, sir," Siobhan gasps. "She-she's my friend. I won't. I won't hurt her."

Amycus only smiles. He flicks his wand at her lazily and before I know it, Siobhan is writhing on the floor, her mouth frozen in a silent scream.

Colin and I look at each other from across the room. Making up my mind, I dive in front of her, and it's like the breath has been grabbed from my lungs as the spell hits me in the back.

I drop to all fours, gritting my teeth. "Stop. Please. This is wrong–"

"Wrong? What's wrong is students failing to follow instructions given by a professor!" Amycus hisses, twisting his wand one final time and Siobhan's eyes flutter shut.

"Class dismissed. Take care of... _this_ ," he snarls.

"I'm going to speak to the headmaster about your insolence, Weasley."

I catch my breath, ignoring the aching in my spine, and motion to Colin.

He takes one of Siobhan's arms around his neck and Iona, another Gryffindor in our year, takes Siobhan's other arm.

I stagger behind them all the way to the common room.

Neville and Seamus are absorbed in a game of chess, but quickly forget it once they see us. Seamus stands up so quickly that he knocks the board off the table. Ignoring the protests of the tiny knights, he rushes over.

"Merlin, did someone mouth off?"

"No. Crucio," I pant. "She...she couldn't do it."

Neville frowns, his face unreadable. "I'll go get my herbs. Lay her down on the couch and immobilize her."

Colin obeys and I collapse on the couch opposite, burying my face in my hands. I want nothing more than to sob wildly but I refuse to let the tears fall.

When Neville returns, bearing a bowl of green liquid similar to the one Seamus imbibed the other day, he sits down.

"Tell me everything. And I do mean everything." I do, and he remains silent for a good five minutes.

"Ginny. This can't continue. Someone will die if this keeps happening."

"I know."

"We're going to have to move up the meeting," he sighs.

Pulling out his DA Galleon, he taps it several times, and the inscription on mine changes to 4:35 RR TODAY.

* * *

 

At 4:35 sharp, a small crowd has gathered in the Room of Requirement. I take in the faces. 

Luna. Neville. Colin. Parvati and Padma. Lavender. Justin. Seamus. Dennis. Iona. About 30 other people from various Houses, all original DA members, have gathered. 

Neville clears his throat, and everyone falls silent. 

"Right. Well, uh–" I nod at him encouragingly–"you know this year hasn't got off to the best start."

Seamus harrumphs loudly. Neville rolls his eyes and continues: "So I thought we'd start meeting up again because we're stronger together than we are apart. My goal is not to create trouble, but to cause general mischief. Take the attention off the younger ones, because we're older and bigger and can handle whatever the Carrows throw at us."

"How do you know we can handle it?" someone asks.

"Because I know you. We survived Umbridge, we survived last year, we survived the first week of school. We have each other's backs."

"We'll need a Secret-Keeper, you know," Luna pipes up. 

No one raises their hands except Colin. Seamus and I exchange uncomfortable looks. 

"Colin, no–"

"You can't–"

"I can and I _will_ ," Colin says, striding up to Neville and looking him right in the eye. "I will be your Secret-Keeper. I'd die before I betrayed any of you. Even you, Seamus."

Neville sighs. "I can't pretend I don't have any qualms about this, because I very much do. But I'm not about to force someone else to Secretkeep, so....here goes. I really only know the incantation. I hope I don't kill you." Colin shrugs, accepting his fate.

"Finite Incantatem," Neville whispers, closing his eyes. "Meritatus." A silvery box appears, and Neville holds his wand to his temple, drawing a thin stream into the box, and closes the lid with his hands. "Incantatus. Finite." Colin's heart absorbs the box and a shimmery wave engulfs the room for a split second, leaving as quickly as it appeared. 

"We are now under Secret Keeping. This means none of us will be able to speak the name of the club or where it's located. Not that you should be telling anyone about this, anyway," Neville adds.

"Should we draw up a list like last time?" Luna asks.

"I don't see why not." A sheet of parchment appears and everyone begins lining up to write their names and year.

When it's my turn, I write not only my name, but Harry's. The parchment shimmers, and absorbs the ink so that only my name shows in the slot. "This isn't his fight," Iona says behind me. "It's ours."

I suppose she's right, no matter how much I hate the idea. 

Neville rolls up the parchment and hands it to Luna. She transfigures it into a drawing of a radish, and stuffs it in her knapsack. I know it's safe with her, because no sane person would go through Luna's vegetable-filled, parchment-strewn backpack, not even a Carrow.

"I think that's enough for today, but keep an eye on your coins. Next meeting, probably in two weeks, we're going to officially decide who's in charge and what we'll be learning," Neville announces. "We can't be too regular or we'll be found out."

Everyone drifts off except for Neville and I. 

"That wasn't very organized," Neville frets.

"I think it was perfect," I say. "We're a ragtag band of students, and besides, we can't all be Hermione."

"I know. But if we want to have any hope we're going to have to establish a line of leadership and order."

"Two weeks is plenty of time to figure it out. I also think it's actually quite good that we didn't organise anything, because that's less information to give up."

Neville tilts his head, acknowledging my statement. "I suppose you're right. Let's go check on Siobhan, hopefully she's feeling better by now."

 

**Hope you enjoyed that chapter! I have no idea what the actual Secret-keeping spell looks like, so I decided to be creative with it. Next chapter we'll have some more mayhem, a lot more violence, some meetings, and billowy Snape robes.**

 


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